Written in the Stars
by Character Sketches
Summary: Fiveshot! It's in the Black family nature to both believe and to rebel. Five family members, five different stories, each influenced by the stars that both name them and make them who they are.
1. Tomorrow's Rain

**written in the**_ stars_  
sirius black

**( tomorrow's rain )**

_ by cupid-painted-blind_

Ca-pri-corn.

Li-bra.

A-qua-ri-us.

It's Ancient Runes meets History of Magic meets Muggle Superstition, and then some. He taps his telescope impatiently, tracking another constellation (even though a lot of them aren't out this time of year or night), another star chart, with pretty Zodiac symbols and myths and histories. It's meaningless, and at the same time -

Lily says it's fascinating, because she grew up conspicuously not-believing in this sort of thing - sleepovers with friends giggling over magazine quizzes and wondering whether or not to believe in fate. James says it's stupid, because they're just stars and can't affect people. Remus says it's interesting; Peter, it's spooky.

_Because it's so accurate! I mean, it says here that I'm a... a Virgo, and that means I like -_

It means, Sirius drawls under his breath, that you're a woman who can't get laid.

James laughs beside him and Remus gives him an admonishing look, but smiles. Lily glares, but who cares about Lily anyway? Peter either doesn't hear him or doesn't respond, eagerly looking through the book to find something else about Virgo.

He makes a huge mark on his star-chart and labels it SIRIUS because after all, that's the brightest star in the sky, and those stupid Zodiac signs don't matter anyway. Peter mumbles that he wishes he was named after a star.  
_  
But you are! _Sirius says loudly, _Right here, you see _- points to some far-off light - _Peterius Wormius. Brightest star in the constellation Theseus!_

_Orion, _Remus hisses under his breath. _There is no Theseus. And that's Leo._

--

Scor-pi-o.

Ge-mi-ni.

Pi-sces.

The firewhiskey burns down his throat, fire from somewhere deeper than the eye can see, smoking on his tongue, searing as he holds it in his mouth as long as he can manage. James' house is set pretty far out from everyone else, so it's good 'cause there isn't a whole lot of light to obscure the stars. He can see so many constellations, and from here it looks like the really are what the books say they are.

There's Castor and Pollux (_brothers, inseparable, even in death_) and, and, and - and there's Andromeda, the Chained Lady (_married Perseus the killer of the Medusa_), and, and, and - and there's Leo -

Mr. Potter's whiskey burns down his throat, acrid and acidic and painful. It tastes as awful as it feels, but somehow Sirius thinks that's okay.

Because it's whiskey, it's alcohol, it's freedom and escape and rule-breaking and winning. Because it's just as bad as it feels.

The book tells him that he's an Aries, a fire sign, which is fitting, really, because, three days before summer break ends, he stands in the backyard with James, douses a whole trunkful of Black memorabilia (Christmas presents that he half-wants to salvage, letters and books and old robes and new ones as well and a hideous sweater his mother sent him in his first year and Bella's old wedding invitation and all the other things he never meant to save but did, somehow) with the stolen firewhiskey and sets it all aflame.

The book - _Astronomy for Beginners_ - curls up and shudders to ash and Sirius can do nothing but watch.

(It says - it says they were born in the Year of the Rat, a year of death and war and - and they flaunt it, all of its aggression and charm and pretty pictures and celebrations and paper lanterns and foreign streets, thrust it right back in its face because - )

(Because they are sixteen, and invincible.)

(Because they are sixteen, and fragile.)

--

Taur-us.

Vir-go.

Sa-gi-tar-ri-us.

_What do you think it'll be like_, Peter asks, _when we're all gone out of the dorm and living in the real world?_

What, he means, will Remus do when we aren't here to help him?

They scoff and shrug it off because that's all in the future and it's so far away. The future - the present is already enough for them to handle right now, why worry with the future? It's coming, one day at a time, James says, we'll meet it when it does.

_Yes, but -_

Sirius gives him a look - one of those _don't push it_ looks - and Peter backs off.

Seven and five days before the end of term, Sirius is up on the Astronomy tower, watching stars. The door opens and someone shuffles out onto the roof, slow and unsteady in the darkness, but Sirius - eyes already adjusted to the low light - recognizes his brother immediately.

For reasons he never, ever can explain, he doesn't say anything at first. He watches, instead, as Regulus - a Leo, he thinks, a Leo, which is all the proof he's ever needed that the Zodiac is stupid - slumps against the closed door and buries his head in his arms.

(Sirius is half-tempted to talk to him, like a brother should, but then, they aren't brothers, not anymore, not really.)

Regulus is shaking violently, like he hasn't eaten in too long or his feet can't support his weight - like he's about to collapse into himself, like the gravity has finally overcome the energy and there's nowhere to go but down.

(Like a black hole, Sirius thinks, his brother the Black Hole.)

(He snickers at his own joke, even though it isn't funny.)

All of a sudden, Regulus looks up from across the tower and meets his eyes. Gray to gray - haunted to hunted (which is which?). Regulus makes a move as if to get up, and then doesn't. Instead, he looks up, to the sky. So does Sirius. There's nothing to see.

There never was.

--

Ar-ies.

Can-cer.

_Le-o._

For the second time in his life, Sirius finds himself at a memory-pyre. Into it go all the stolen and pilfered and snuck-out and substituted fragments - here's a green scarf, not Regulus's Slytherin one, but close enough - and a potions book that reminds him of Hogwarts and Slug Club parties pointedly ignoring family - and there, underneath everything else, a half-burnt photograph already salvaged from one farewell.

There won't be any retrieving it this time. He's kept it long enough.

(It isn't worth anything anyway.)

Lily stands behind him, concerned, but James explains that this is something of a tradition (it isn't) and not to worry (she does) and that Sirius will be fine by morning (he won't). Sirius doesn't call his friend a liar. He doesn't have to.

It's unsaid - _what's _really_ wrong with Sirius?_ Remus isn't here, and Peter is doing something with the Order, so it's just Sirius and James and Lily, and soon just Sirius and James, watching the fire lick up and burn through wood and paper and history.

_So,_ James whispers, _any particular reason?_

He stares blankly at the papers curling up and fancies - for a moment - that he sees the photograph, that it flashes into view for just a moment and then fades into ash again. He blinks, shakes it off.

(His brother's grin, shuddering into darkness.)

(Like a black hole, stealing all the light and air and brightness. His brother the Black Hole.)

_No,_ Sirius answers, _not really._


	2. Champagne Supernova

**written in the**_ stars_  
andromeda black

**( champagne supernova )**

_by Cuban Sombrero Gal_

_A champagne supernova in the sky  
Wake up the dawn and ask her why  
A dreamer dreams, she never dies_

Champagne Supernova, by Oasis

It's Ted who explains it to her. Really, Andromeda thinks he's explained _life _to her, but that's far too soppy, because even if she's engaging in these little acts of rebellion, she's still a Slytherin and a Black, so …

He fiddles with the telescope between chaste kisses to her lips, cheeks and neck, and she giggles and blushes like her younger sister as he points out various stars. Of course they're up here under the pretense of mandatory astronomy tutoring – because what other excuse is there for the Slytherin turned 'good-girl' and the Hufflepuff she supposedly hates with a passion – and yet it's anything but.

He's actually got some sort of perverse fascination with this whole star thing; he says it comes from having a mother who buys newspapers simply for the horoscopes and an A+ on his essay about Mars back when he was ten.

Tonight, Ted says he has something special to show her, but if Andromeda's honest, she's more interested in a few hours of escapism from Bella's evil eye – it's obvious she knows something is up from that distrusting gazes and that sadistic leer that screams 'I will find your secret'- and just spending some alone time with Ted. It's exhilarating, being a rebel, and almost _too much _fun. I sound like my sister, she berates herself, I sound like Narcissa _and _like Bellatrix, but really, she can't help herself, because Ted, with all his strident bravado and that knowing little smile, is nothing short of intoxicating.

"Look," he says, pointing into the sky, where stars twinkle like diamonds and it's all so peaceful and free. "Look, there's Bellatrix."

"What the -" Andromeda spins around, arms flailing and heart pounding, and –

-and Ted catches her, sets her upright, snorts at the undignified look on her face.

"No silly," he mutters, "look out there."

Andromeda pushes her eye to the telescope, and stares at what is nothing more than a mass of yellow.

"There," he prods, and he's never irritated by her lack of understanding, never snappish about her blank stares. "Bellatrix. It means warrior, and it's the twenty-second brightest star in the sky." Even with her eye jammed to the telescope, Andromeda can see that his face is laced with excitement. There's so much she wants to say about Bella, but for all of Ted's loyalty and bravery, he's nothing but naïve when it comes to the idea of wizarding power. Candlelight dinners where the face of the murderer shines in the light, and spells where green does not represent a love of nature but an end to it mean nothing to him in the grand scheme of life.

So, she just sticks with a simple answer – even though she knows he isn't expecting one at all – of "Warrior? Wow that does really suit Bellatrix," to which he nods and makes a slight comment about her being a bitch, to which Andromeda snorts at and they continue looking at the stars.

Ted wraps an arm around her, and they stand still for a minute, time rushing past them like Muggle freight trains.

"There's Regulus," he mutters finally, his eye jammed up against the telescope yet again. "It's a part of the constellation Leo the Lion."

"So basically, you're saying my cousin should be a Gryffindor," she quips, and once again, they both know it goes deeper than that, deeper than astronomy and the symbolism of animals and possibly even love.

"Basically," he agrees with a laugh. "Merlin, can you imagine Regulus and James Potter on the same Quidditch team?"

"Of course not. Not at all."

To be honest, there's a lot more of both James and Sirius in Regulus than any of them will ever admit, especially Sirius and Regulus – while they're far from the picture perfect brothers of fairytales, they're both as stubborn as each other. She wants to voice this too, but once again, she doubts Ted will understand. She loves him, and she's far from prejudiced – or maybe she's just suffering from a different strain of bigotry from the rest of her family, maybe she's got lung cancer while their hearts are rotting away, all dripping crimson blood and hatred stripping away from the organ – but _he will not understand. _

"There's Sirius," he says next. "It's the brightest star in the sky."

"That sounds about right," Andromeda agrees. "Trust him to be the one who gets to shine brighter than us all."

"Yeah, he's a pretty … full on sort of person."

Sirius is a supernova, a shining light that's going to explode. He's far too reckless and insane for this life, for life in general, she thinks, and sooner or later he's going to disappear with a bang and a puff of smoke. Three, two, one … _BANG!_ He's too bright almost, a glowing campfire in a world of dimmed lights and candles, and she's convinced that it will be his downfall (not that she ever mentions this, either, of course).

Instead, she asks where Cissa is, and he replies with a trace of unidentifiable emotion that there isn't a star called Narcissa, so she asks about herself, and he says that there isn't a star called Andromeda either.

"So, it's only boys who are named after the stars, then?" she asks curiously, because she's got an uncle called Orion as well, and even she, who's getting a P in Astronomy, has heard of Orion's belt.

"So you're saying Bellatrix is a boy then. I was always knew there was a reason she'd turned Lucius Malfoy down so many times."

"Good point."

"There is something called Andromeda," he mutters quietly. "You're so perfect, you get a whole galaxy named after you."

His hands caress the telescope again, because of course he's going to show her.

"Here," he says.

She looks, and it's pretty – and no, she's not being vain because of all the associations, it really is – so pretty.

"Are you trying to convince me that I'm bigger than my family and I can overrule them for you."

"Possibly." A grin slides across his face like melted butter, and then it fades. "It's up to you, of course. I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to."

As he leans in for a kiss, they can both taste his unspoken words: "but I'd love it if you did."

(maybe he understands more than she thought.)


End file.
